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Ariel hesitated for a moment before finding a random spot to sit down, his posture stiff.
He looked down at his sand-covered sneakers and muttered under his breath:
"If I had known you were here, I wouldn't have dared to show off in front of those brats even if I were beaten to death."
There was a lot of calculation behind those words.
It both expressed awe for the strong and indirectly explained his motive for acting just now—purely the competitive nature of a young man.
Drake burst into laughter, the sound so loud it shook dust from the ceiling.
"Showing off? No, that wasn't showing off. Those wealthy kids who haven't even grown their feathers yet really did need to learn a lesson."
"Young Ariel, you must be quite strong among the new generation of Trainers in the League. That Krookodile of yours is certainly extraordinary."
Ariel gave a bitter smile and then began to chat freely with the old Elite. During the conversation, Drake also learned of Ariel's status as a Core Lineage Trainer.
"Longming Seafood House is a remote and smelly place,"
Drake pulled a piece of dry fish from a bamboo basket at his feet and tossed it into his mouth, chewing loudly, his voice muffled,
"Those Core Lineage children who think so highly of themselves would rather take a cruise ship to eat bloody steak than ever set foot in this area. You're the first one who not only came but also took action for these fishermen. Kid, you're special."
Ariel looked up, his eyes clearing a bit as he asked with some confusion:
"As a prestigious Elite, why do you keep such a run-down shop? Business here doesn't seem very good."
This was partly out of his own curiosity and partly to learn more about this Dragon Elite.
After all, he would likely have to face him in the future. Any kind of information was the more, the better.
Drake stopped chewing and turned to look at the surging waves outside the door.
The sea breeze blew his white hair into a mess. At that moment, he didn't look like a Dragon-type master who commanded respect everywhere, but more like a down-and-out captain about to retire.
"Run-down shop?"
Drake scoffed, pointing at the stone-paved road beneath his feet,
"I was once a low-level sailor, Ariel. In storms where one could barely stay alive, on decks full of stinking fish guts, I lived for thirty years. I've eaten at this shop for thirty years. It's not a business; it's my anchor. If a person flies too high and forgets which mud pit they crawled out of, then they aren't far from falling."
He turned around and looked Ariel straight in the eye, his tone becoming serious:
"No matter how high you climb in the future, you must never forget the soil beneath your feet. Ariel, remember, don't let the power struggles within the League cloud your eyes. Be like this sea—able to contain the filth of a hundred rivers while never losing your true nature. Beneath the deep sea, it is always cold and silent."
These words carried the high expectations of an elder for a junior, even hinting at a strange sense of inheritance.
Drake's appreciation for Ariel was already evident. He even began to feel that if the future successors of the League could all be like Ariel...
...then the remnants of the old era like himself could probably step down with peace of mind.
"If you plan to challenge the League, or if you encounter any unsolvable trouble in the Hoenn Region,"
"Once you've collected eight badges, you can come directly to Ever Grande City to find me."
A look of being overwhelmed by favor appeared on Ariel's face.
He stood up and gave Drake a deep bow, his voice sincere.
"Thank you for your guidance, senior."
The two spoke for a while longer, mostly Drake telling anecdotes about the sea, while Ariel listened quietly, occasionally showing a timely hint of yearning.
Half an hour later, the two bid farewell.
The wind outside was still strong, making the corners of his clothes flutter loudly.
He walked along the coastline for a while until he was certain he was out of Drake's sight and range of perception.
He stopped, and his humble, cramped, and youthful expression instantly vanished.
It was replaced by an almost mechanical indifference.
"Original intention? Soil?"
Ariel shook his head, an undisguised mockery on the corner of his mouth.
These top NPCs always like to imagine the world as a logic full of warmth and order.
"As long as you display the values they agree with, they will, like sentimental parents, hand the best resources over to you."
"Drake, you've lost."
"You think you've seen through a young man with infinite potential, but in reality, you've only watched a play I choreographed."
"Your trust in me will become the deepest nail I drive into the League."
Ariel's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the winding coastline.
Meanwhile, Drake watched Ariel's receding back.
He pulled a black specially-made communicator from his pocket and pressed an encrypted frequency.
"How's the investigation going?"
His voice was deep, and the hearty elder persona from before had completely vanished.
A slight static sound came from the other end, followed by a professional female voice:
"We found it. Ariel, Kanto origin, his resume is... perfect. From his first Pokémon to his current travel records, every entry meets the standards of an excellent Trainer of the League. No family background; his parents were ordinary Working-class people who died in an accident a few years ago. His growth trajectory is as clean as a blank sheet of paper, with every milestone verifiable."
Drake's hand gripping the communicator tightened.
"As clean as a blank sheet of paper?"
Drake snorted coldly, his gaze sinister.
He understood the survival reality of bottom-level Trainers all too well.
A young man without any background who wants to possess this level of strength in a short time must have experienced countless struggles on the edge of life and death.
And that kind of struggle is often accompanied by gray-area deals, bloody conflicts, and methods that cannot see the light of day.
For someone who truly climbed up from the bottom, it's impossible for their resume to have no stains.
Unless those stains were wiped away by someone with immense power, or the entire paper is a forged work of art.
"There is a one-in-ten-thousand chance that such a resume is real,"
Drake muttered to himself in the empty room,
"But in the remaining nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine possibilities, I'm being lied to."
He recalled Ariel's cramped appearance just now.
"Ariel..."
Drake turned off the communicator and cast his gaze toward the turbulent sea outside the window.
Beneath that bottomless blue, no one can see what kind of monster is hidden.
"Are you a fake Core Lineage member pushed out by the League to maintain balance, or a real venomous snake planted by an external force?"
Drake stood up and walked to the door, letting the cold sea breeze pour into his collar.
He didn't regret the promise he made to Ariel, because only by raising the fish where it can be seen can one know if it's poisonous or not.
"What a vibrant Trainer..."
"I just hope everything isn't as I imagine..."